


The Hunting Party

by grace_and_lucidity



Series: Saving Bellamy Blake [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt Bellamy Blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grace_and_lucidity/pseuds/grace_and_lucidity
Summary: Bellamy and Monty go hunting. They should have heeded Lincoln's warning about a cult...but they didn't. This episode of Saving Bellamy Blake has a bit of Greek mythology, a bit of Midsommar, and a lot of Monty heroics. And, a little bit of Bellarke fluff at the end.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Saving Bellamy Blake [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950904
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	The Hunting Party

Monty shifted the backpack to his other shoulder. “So when Lincoln warned us about a Cult of Artemis, who do you think that is?”

Bellamy shrugged. “He just wants us to be cautious. We’re out beyond our territory. I don’t think he knows if that cult is real or not.” 

Monty nodded. “But he said there’s a lot of stories about hunters going out and no one ever hearing from them again.”

“It’s probably just a ghost story. Something to keep people from straying too far from camp,” Bellamy replied. He put his hand on Monty’s shoulder. “Relax, okay? And just keep your eyes open.”

“Yeah, I will,” Monty said as they headed along the quickly narrowing path.

“So who was Artemis again?” Monty asked.  
“Artemis was the Greek Goddess of the Hunt,” Bellamy answered. “She was also the twin sister of Apollo. The Romans called her Diana.”

Monty loved hearing stories from Bellamy. The guy had a near perfect memory of everything he’d ever read, which was a lot. Monty’s childhood had been full of math and science classes. Bellamy’s young life, while a lot tougher, had also been full of history lessons and stories of romance and intrigue. It was an entirely new world to Monty, and one he never got tired of hearing about.

Bellamy smiled, happy to have an audience. He continued, “According to the myth, she was out in the woods, decided to bathe in a stream, and got surprised by Actaeon.”  
“And Actaeon was...?”  
“He was a deer hunter, a mortal. But he made a big mistake by surprising Artemis. She was so mad, she transformed him into a deer and then she and her maidens hunted him down and killed him.”  
“That’s uh...pretty harsh,” Monty said.  
Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. It was.”

He followed Bellamy through the narrow pass into the valley. His eyes travelled to the left and right, confirming the steep rise on either side. It felt almost claustrophobic to him, with the dense woods and thick undergrowth, but Bellamy’s confidence in his path spurred him on. This was farther than they had ventured from the dropship before, but the game had become wise to the fact they were being hunted within a mile radius and had begun to avoid the area. 

He slowed as Bellamy crouched down to watch the group of deer they had followed into the pass. They were grazing in a small clearing about forty yards in front of them. Bellamy waited for Monty to crouch alongside him. 

“We’ll have to crawl from here,” Bellamy instructed. “It’s too open.” Monty nodded and pulled the leaf covered hood over his head. The two men got down on hands and knees and began crawling slowly forward, stopping whenever one of the deer raised its head to test the air. They were within twenty yards when they both lay down flat on their stomachs and watched for a minute. Bellamy raised his eyes to the edge of the valley beyond. 

“This is almost too easy,” he said. “The pass we went through is the only way out without climbing up those bluffs,” he gestured to both right and left.

“I guess that’s good for us, then,” said Monty, pulling one of the makeshift arrows from his back sling. “Because I’ll probably need more than one shot to kill anything with this.”

Bellamy sighed. “I know. But we can’t waste bullets. We’ll just do the best we can.” He pulled his own arrow out and propped himself up on a log to take aim. “Which one?” he asked.

Monty watched the group, then selected the target. “Second from the right,” he said. They both took aim at the same deer and counted backwards from three before letting the arrows loose. A few seconds later the deer jumped, bolted forward a few feet, then dropped. The herd startled and began running directly towards Bellamy and Monty. As they rose to their feet, the deer shifted their course and ran the opposite direction. Bellamy sprinted the last few yards to the deer’s body with Monty close behind. They knelt over the body and Bellamy pulled the single arrow loose from its chest.

“Mine or yours?” he asked jokingly.  
“Clearly that’s mine,” Monty responded with a laugh. “Yours is over there,” he pointed to the arrow that lay a few feet to the side.

“Funny,” Bellamy said, standing up to retrieve the arrow. His eyes travelled to the small herd of deer that had again shifted direction and were now headed back towards them. He frowned.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. Monty looked up from dressing the deer.  
“What is it?” he asked. Bellamy gestured to the deer.

“What are they doing?” he asked. Monty watched as the deer began pulling up short within a few feet of them, uncertain which way to run.

“Why aren’t they headed up the bluff?” Bellamy asked. “Something is scaring them worse than we are.” 

He began swiveling his head in all directions, scanning the edge of the bluffs above for anything that could be spooking the deer. Monty did the same. His eyes caught on a large upright pole that was in the center of the clearing. He was about to ask Bellamy what he thought it was when he heard him yelp in surprise. 

At the same instant something small and feathered whisked past his ear and landed on the ground in front of him. He whipped around to see Bellamy pulling a dart with a feathered end from his neck. Bellamy held the dart in his hand and looked up at Monty with a strange expression. His eyes then moved beyond Monty and widened in fear as he dropped to his knees.

“Monty! Run!” he cried, collapsing onto the ground. Monty looked back up to see several figures descending from the woods on all sides of the valley. Frantic, he looked back to Bellamy who was face down and still. He bolted towards the pass as the figures made their way into the clearing and began closing in on all sides. How he managed to run fast enough to get into the cover of the trees he didn’t know, but he kept moving for a hundred more yards before he could tell he wasn’t being followed. 

He dropped to the ground, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart. In an instant, his thoughts returned to Bellamy. He had to go back. He rose slowly and crept forward, keeping alert to any movement around him. 

****************************************************************************  
Being forced to stay within the tree line meant he couldn’t see as well as he would have liked. What he could see though, brought another wave of panic. A group of figures had descended on Bellamy who was trying to raise himself up on all fours. Within minutes they had stripped him of his jacket and shoes, dragged him to the vertical pole and bound him to it by tying his wrists together behind it. They then took woven vines and began wrapping them around his legs, chest and neck to further restrict his movements. His head was lowered and he appeared to be having trouble standing. A dozen people had gathered in the clearing and Monty noted quickly that all of them were women. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath. He still had his backpack and he shifted it to the ground and began pawing through the contents. He didn’t know what he was looking for, just anything that might give him an advantage against a dozen adversaries. His eyes caught on the one weapon they had brought with them besides the arrows. It was a concoction he and Jasper had cooked up themselves. A combination of Jobi nuts ground into powder and mushroom spores that he had put into a small glass jar. The psychedelic effects of the two wouldn’t be lethal, but it would certainly render an enemy out of commission. The problem was, it took a few minutes to take effect when someone ate it. Second problem was how to administer it to twelve people at once? 

“Think, Monty,” he muttered, watching as the women began to dance in a circle around Bellamy. Eleven of the them were dressed in identical long brown robes but the twelfth woman was dressed in white. They were all wearing flower crowns in their hair. With every rotation, one of the women would approach him and run her hands along his torso or sway provocatively in front of him, then drop a flower at his feet. If it hadn’t been for the man bound in the middle of this strange spectacle, Monty would have found it strangely beautiful. 

Bellamy had now lifted his head but Monty could tell he was still heavily drugged. An idea struck him and he dug back into the backpack, rummaging around until he found what he needed. He pulled out several small bark pouches he had made to carry food in. Dumping the food out on the ground, he began carefully pouring the Jobi powder into each pouch, then stuffing them closed with moss. “I need fire,” he whispered. He glanced back up to see the woman in white leave the circle and walk over the body of the deer he and Bellamy had slain. She knelt down by its head for several minutes and when she stood and turned, Monty felt a pang of nausea hit him. Her white gown was covered in blood and she held the antlers of the deer in her hands. The other women had been working intently on something on the ground and she joined them with the antlers. After several minutes, she stood and approached Bellamy who had an expression of horror on his face as he saw what she held. She raised her arms up and placed the antler crown on his head.

“Artemis,” Monty whispered to himself. “Transforming him into a deer.” His heart was beating so hard he thought surely they would be able to hear it from across the clearing. He had started working a small flint into some kindling, praying for a spark. “Come on, come on,” he said desperately. His eyes flicked back and forth between the flint and the clearing. 

Bellamy began to struggle as the blood from the antler crown began running down his face. The woman in white stood directly in front of him and raised her arms. 

“Actaeon, you have dared to trespass on the hunting grounds of Artemis,” she said. “You, a mortal, have dared lay eyes on the body of a goddess. You are condemned to death.” The other women had linked arms and were swaying back and forth, murmuring incoherently. 

“No!” Bellamy shouted. “You can’t condemn me. You’re mortal, too. This is insane!” He was still struggling as she walked about ten yards away from him and picked up a bow and arrow. Bellamy’s eyes grew wide in panic.

“God damn it!” Monty was practically crying as he worked the flint as fast as he could. The faintest trace of smoke began to curl up from the kindling as the woman let her first arrow loose. It sang through the air and buried itself in Bellamy’s right thigh. He howled in pain. 

All the women mimicked his howl and began to chant the same sound rhythmically, each woman in a different pitch. The eerie sound was sending chills down Monty’s spine. The smoke had turned into a small flame and he lifted a tiny flaming twig from the fire as the second arrow flew, piercing Bellamy in the left side just below his rib cage. He let out a huff, followed by a low keening moan. The women again mimicked his sounds, their huffing and moaning growing louder as Monty lit the small bark packets, pulling a scarf around his face to keep from inhaling the smoke. He stood slowly and began walking towards the group, gingerly holding the now smoldering packets. The women were paying no attention to anything other than Bellamy and the woman in white. They had crowded closer to him, holding hands and forming a circle all the way around him.

Monty saw the woman put down the bow and arrow and pull a large hunting knife from her waist. The other women grew silent and the only sound Monty could hear now was Bellamy’s agonized groans. She was approaching Bellamy with the knife raised as the other women parted their circle to allow her in. Monty began to run, protecting the flames as he did so, making sure the smoking packets stayed lit. He screamed loudly as he approached and the women all turned towards him, surprise on their faces. He lobbed the flaming packets directly into the center of the circle. When they hit the ground, they exploded into a cloud of sparks and smoke. The women jumped back in surprise as the smoke enveloped them. The effects of the hallucinogens were almost immediate. The women were coughing, then weaving back and forth, clearly disoriented. Monty approached the group slowly and realized when they looked at him they seemed to not know what to do or say to him and walked away.

He sprinted up to Bellamy, pushing women out of his way as he did. The arrows were still lodged in both his thigh and his side, with blood pouring from each. Bellamy raised his head and looked at Monty with a mixture of fear and confusion. Monty couldn’t tell if it was the effect of the smoke or the loss of blood, but Bellamy appeared to not recognize him. He reached behind Bellamy and loosened the ties around his wrists. Then, he reached up and pulled the antler's off of Bellamy's head.

“Stay with me, Bellamy,” he cried. “We’re getting out of here.”  
“Get down,” Bellamy croaked weakly.  
“What?” Monty asked.  
“Get down!” Bellamy cried, louder this time. He pushed Monty to the ground with one hand at the same instant that he grabbed the shaft of the arrow lodged in his thigh with the other. Monty hit the dirt just as the woman in white swung the knife in a wide arc that would have struck him directly in the back of the neck. Bellamy raised his left arm to block her and thrust the arrow he was holding into her neck. She screamed, holding her neck, and backed away, collapsing on the ground. 

Monty saw the knife drop from the woman’s hand and land at the ground near him. He grabbed it and began slicing through the woven vines that still held Bellamy to the post. He worked his way up, ending at the one tied around his neck. As he released the last binding, Bellamy collapsed onto the ground near the woman in white and didn’t move. 

Monty scrambled to his knees and thrust his hands under Bellamy’s shoulders. “Come on, Bellamy. Stay with me,” he cried. It took all his strength to get Bellamy upright in a seated position. His head rolled back against Monty’s chest. Monty brought his head down near Bellamy’s and listened. He was still breathing, but his breath was accompanied by a rattling, wet sound that Monty knew was a bad sign. 

“I gotta get you out of here,” he whispered. The woman in white was still unmoving on the ground. Her followers were wandering aimlessly around the clearing, not paying any attention to her or the two men. Monty stood and pulled Bellamy up with him, locking his arms around Bellamy’s chest. He began backing away, dragging Bellamy with him. As he moved, Bellamy let out a groan of pain.

“Please, this hurts,” he gasped. “Can I just lay down?”  
“Sorry, Bellamy. We have to move,” Monty said.

“I’m tired, Monty,” Bellamy said. “Please?”  
“No!” Monty said with more force. “You can rest when we get back to the drop ship, okay? I’m gonna get you home.”

Bellamy nodded weakly. “Home. With Clarke.” Monty raised his eyebrows at that.  
“Yeah, with Clarke,” he repeated.  
“I love her,” Bellamy said. “Did you know that?”  
Monty kept walking backwards, being as careful with Bellamy as he could. 

“Uh...I do now,” he whispered. Every step he took, he could see more blood running from the wound in Bellamy’s thigh. The other arrow was still lodged below his ribcage but Monty was afraid to stop moving and try to pull it out, so he kept going.

He finally reached the tree line and laid Bellamy gently down on the ground. He sprinted to where he had left his backpack and brought it back to where Bellamy was. Grabbing a piece of rope, he tied off Bellamy’s thigh to slow the bleeding, then focused his attention on the arrow still protruding from his torso. The arrow tip was fully embedded just under his lowest rib, and when Monty closed his hand gently over the shaft near the entry point and gave a gentle pull, Bellamy screamed in pain.

“Okay, okay,” Monty said and stopped. He realized it would take more skills than he had to remove the arrow. He would have to get him back to the drop ship where Clarke could hopefully make an incision large enough to remove the arrow without causing further damage.

“Sorry, Bellamy,” he said. “We need to keep going.” Bellamy shook his head slowly.  
“You go,” he said. “I’ll just wait here.”  
“Nope, that’s not happening,” Monty said. “Come on.” He pulled Bellamy back up to his feet and wrapped his arm around his waist, supporting as much of his weight as he could. “Can you walk?” he asked. Bellamy gave a grudging nod. “Okay, let’s just take one step at a time,” Monty encouraged.

With this painfully slow process, they managed to reach the drop ship two hours later. By the time he got Bellamy to the pole gate, he was supporting his weight entirely. Bellamy had essentially stopped moving on his own for the last thirty minutes. Monty was sweating, gasping for breath, and every muscle in his body was screaming for rest. Octavia was the first person to see him dragging Bellamy’s limp body into the gate.

“Bellamy!” she screamed, running up to Monty and putting her arm around Bellamy’s other side. “What happened?” she looked down in horror at the arrow.

“We were hunting, and we got ambushed,” was all Monty could manage to get out. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Get Clarke.”

Octavia yelled at Monroe who ran towards the drop ship. By the time Monty and Octavia reached the drop ship door, Clarke was rushing out to them, concern written all over her face.  
“We need to stop the bleeding,” Monty said. Clarke nodded as they brought Bellamy in and laid him down on the ground. They exchanged glances of concern when they both saw how pale Bellamy was.

Octavia was hovering. “He’s going to be okay, right?” she asked. Clarke bit her lip and nodded, not really knowing if that were true or not. She looked at the wound on his thigh, where the bleeding had slowed. 

“Octavia, can you clean that wound and wrap it?” she asked, suddenly efficient and commanding. Octavia jumped into action.

Clarke took a knife and cut Bellamy’s shirt open where the arrow was lodged. His breathing had become shallow and irregular. She went outside and held the knife blade over the open fire pit and waited until it was glowing red, bringing it back inside. 

“I’m sorry, Bellamy,” she whispered, gently pushing the blade down into the wound and opening it up enough to pull the arrow out. Bellamy groaned but barely stirred. As soon as she pulled the arrow out, more blood began to pour from the wound.

“Dammit,” Clarke shouted. She pressed both her hands down on his side, attempting to stop the flow. Bellamy opened his eyes and looked at her for a long, silent minute. He opened his mouth and said something Clarke couldn’t hear. Octavia was still working on his leg. 

“What did he say?” she asked Clarke. Clarke shook her head and leaned in closer to Bellamy’s face.

“What is it, Bellamy?” she whispered, her hands still pressing down on his side.  
He gritted his teeth in pain. “I...love...you, Clarke,” he gasped quietly. Clarke’s eyes widened.  
“What?” Octavia demanded.  
“I...I don’t know. I couldn’t understand him.” She said. “Monty, can you keep pressure on this?” Monty moved over to Clarke’s position and held his hands where Clarke’s had been. She stood and removed her shirt.

“What are you doing?” Octavia asked.  
“He needs blood,” Clarke said. She was already fashioning a crude transfusion method.

“Let me,” Octavia said. “I’m his sister.”  
“Do you know your blood type?” Clarke asked. Octavia shook her head. “Well, I do. I’m a universal donor. I’ve got it.” Clarke said with enough authority that neither Octavia or Monty considering arguing.

Within minutes, Clarke had managed to draw a substantial amount of her own blood and install a stint into Bellamy’s forearm. He was already unconscious as she began to slowly inject her own blood into his vein. She began to feel lightheaded and Monty took the syringe from her.  
“I can do this part,” he said softly. She nodded and lay down next to Bellamy, stroking his face.

Octavia stood. “His leg stopped bleeding,” she said. She watched Clarke tending to her brother with such tenderness, she felt tears well up behind her eyes. “I’m gonna just step out for a minute.” 

Clarke was watching Bellamy’s face intently, noticing the color start to return. “You’re gonna be okay, Bell,” she said. Monty smiled. 

“That’s the last of it,” he said, removing the syringe from the stint.  
“Okay,” Clarke said. “He needs to rest.”  
“So do you,” Monty said gently. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Clarke nodded.  
“Thanks, Monty. You saved his life,” she said.  
“We need him,” Monty said simply.  
“Yes, we do,” Clarke smiled. When Monty was gone, she lay her head on Bellamy’s chest, listening to his heart beat. It was stronger now and his breathing was steady and even. “I do.”


End file.
